


House of Mists

by voleuse



Category: La Femme Nikita
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-20
Updated: 2005-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:06:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She waits perpetually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House of Mists

**Author's Note:**

> Set during S1.

She hates the waiting the most.

Coming off an assignment is a high, definitely. She bids goodbye to everyone, goes home to shed her costume. Stands in the shower and scrubs her skin till it's pink.

She has late lunches with Carla. She spends a few days shopping for groceries and for T-shirts. She catches a movie and tries to pretend she's impressed by the stunts.

Usually, after those few days, she's called in again.

But sometimes she isn't, and it's those long intervals that drive her to pieces.

*

 

After two and a half weeks, she returns to the center out of sheer boredom. She veers far around Madeline's domain, walks along the walls to stay out of Operations' sight. Birkoff looks busy with surveillance, so she meanders to Walter's area, where he's tinkering with something that could be a radio, could be a low-yield bomb.

"Hey, Walter." She snaps her gum as she greets him. She's not sure whether he hates it or likes it, and she's going to keep on doing it until she can decide.

He smiles at the gadget, turns a dial with a pair of pliers. "Hey, sugar. Didn't expect to see you here."

"Got bored." She hops onto a stool, cranes her neck to look at the detritus scattered over the table. "Thought I'd come see what's up."

"Same as usual." Something sparks from the gadget, and Walter drops it with an oath. Sucks on his scalded thumb and grins at her. "Maybe a little worse."

She catches a flicker of black in her peripheral vision, turns her head in time to watch Michael enter the aerie.

Walter chuckles, but it turns into a not-very-convincing cough when she returns her attention to him.

"Walter," she begins with a note of warning.

He clears his throat loudly, twirls his pliers against the counter.

"Walter," she repeats, then pauses as something occurs to her. "You used to work in the field, didn't you?"

The smile disappears from his face, and he shrugs.

She takes that as affirmative. "How long did you usually go, between missions?"

Something beeps on the wall, and he turns his back to her in order to give it attention.

She watches the rigid line of his shoulders, and something else comes to mind. She waits until he returns to the table, then leans in to whisper.

"Why did they bring you here?"

He meets her eyes, finally, and she flinches back at his expression.

"Nikita." Michael strides into the room. "Briefing in fifteen minutes." He hands a disk to Walter, then he's gone again.

Walter plugs the disk in, starts to review the specs. "I'd better get to work, sugar," he says, and his voice is light. "I'll see you at the briefing."

"Right," she says, quiet as an echo.

She stands and walks away, but not before she sees Walter clench his fist against the wall.


End file.
